


Hell Creek Road

by BlueOnyx



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Dates, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, two aesthetics for the price of one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 12:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20436008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueOnyx/pseuds/BlueOnyx
Summary: It was a proposal of a different sort.





	Hell Creek Road

**Author's Note:**

> Feels good get another thing kicked out the door, feels right.
> 
> Thanks [Em2a](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Em2a) for the beta! <3

Billy shooed an exhausted herd of students, the last of the ones under his supervision, out from the excavation pits and into the center of camp. He was following Alan's instructions from earlier, to gather them once he signaled the end of the day.

_There he is._

He spotted Alan, pacing slowly while the rest of the kids finished congregating near him, with his hat and coat on and sunglasses in hand—clearly all set to get in his truck and head down to dinner, already.

Alan had called a meeting, which wasn't unusual, but it typically happened after everyone was finished squaring things away, not during. Some sat down at the picnic tables, some were standing and waiting for it to be over so they could continue returning tools.

Alan wasn't waiting for Billy, though, and Billy slipped past him with a knowing look. He climbed into the trailer as Alan started in on the group.

He could hear most of it through the walls as he washed his face and changed into a fresh shirt. Alan was asking for a summary report of the day's progress, and once he got it, went on to discuss the weather.

Billy stepped out, the only one moving around since everyone's attention was on Alan. He found a place to stand and listen in, gripping a support of the trailer's awning with his weight shifted to one leg.

He knew, like he and Alan had discussed that afternoon, about the plan to make it an early day tomorrow due to the impending heat wave—they needed every cool hour they could get before digging had to be called off prematurely, to prevent heatstroke—but not about the second half of Alan's announcement. It caught him by surprise, but it wasn't an unpleasant surprise, exactly.

Alan had just outright banned anyone except himself and Billy from coming along on the weekly dinner trip.

Not that Alan played dictator too often, but any student or volunteer was made to understand early on every season that it was Alan's camp, like it or get out. And of course, Billy _loved_ it.

Eyes rolled at the news, there were a few sighs and grumbles at the injustice, but no one was brave enough to lodge a formal protest. Except one kid, a freshman who seemed impervious to Alan's air of intimidation. Not unlike himself when he first arrived at MSU, Billy thought. It wasn't as if Billy didn't sense the intimidation, it was just, his wires were crossed, so instead of fear, he felt a distinct thrill. This kid had neither going on, just a wide-eyed gape at the announcement.

"So why are _you_ _guys_ going if _we_ can't go?"

The crowd fell silent. The sophomore next to him stomped on his toes, but he ignored it.

Alan's eyes fixed on him as if they had laser-targeting. Billy had seen that look on Alan many times before, and wondered how the kid had gotten this far with such a poor survival instinct, since despite all that, he was still waiting for an answer.

"_Because_," Alan began slowly, putting his fists on his hips. 

Oh boy. He was going to give him an answer, all right.

"I have been digging all week, _I am hungry_, and I _do not_ have patience for the weekly convoy of clown cars to get down there and back tonight." He made a swift sweep of the onlookers. "I want you _all_ to be up and ready to work before six tomorrow morning, not getting trashed until midnight." He stepped closer to the kid, and finally, _finally_ the dumbass got the idea. "Of course, I can't _stop_ you from going. You're perfectly welcome to go. You've got a car, right?"

"Nuh. . . um, I always ride with Casey," he mumbled, grinding the heel of his tennis shoe into the dirt.

"_Oh_. Well, then you're perfectly welcome to ask _Casey_ to drive you." The dark eyebrows on Casey shot up at the suggestion. ". . . Or anyone else who wants to offer their service." The crowd shifted uncomfortably.

Billy saved his commentary until well after they were in Alan's truck and making their winding way towards Hell Creek Road, the dig left in the capable hands of their third in command, a graduate student named Stephanie.

Minutes and distance from the camp went by, and Alan was concentrating hard as he stared ahead, though Billy wasn't sure it was entirely on driving.

"Ouch, Alan," he finally said, trying to break up Alan's strange trance. Billy was gripping the seatbelt, out of habit of the bumpy ride given by the dirt path to and from the dig site, rough but no longer teeth-shattering like it used to be. "I get the dress-down, but I'm not sure taking away everyone's fried dinner was a good move for morale. We could've had them tucked in bed by ten, with a happier camp in the morning."

Alan turned his head for a second, sunglasses glinting in the evening light. "They're not here to be happy," he said flatly.

Even for Alan, that was harsh. But Billy knew he didn't really mean it. He always saw the best of Alan whenever the joy of digging seemed to finally click with a student; the satisfaction shone in his eyes at being able to pass that enthusiasm on to another person, and Billy knew Alan was glad when they found that at his dig, with his help. Still, something was clearly eating at him. "What's gotten into you? Jeez. Living up to your reputation."

The corner of Alan's mouth twitched. "Oh? As what, exactly?" he asked. Whatever mood he was in, he clearly wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to fish for the ways Billy described him—Billy knew he got a kick out of them.

So he delivered. "'_A crotchety old bastard who wouldn't know fun even if it wiggled up his ass_.'" Billy couldn't help but grin as he said it.

And then Alan did, too, glancing at him as they finally made it onto the much smoother main road, heading south. His foot pressed the clutch and he shifted up. "Oh yes I would! Anyway, I thought you liked that about me. The crotchety bastard part. . . and my ass, too."

"_I_ do." Billy clapped his right hand onto his chest in a kind of pledge, feigning offense that Alan could ever doubt that. "I overheard _that_ one outside the computer tent the other day. Compliments of that little turd you just made an example of."

Alan tilted his head. "Well, I think he'll learn pretty quickly, don't you?"

Billy remembered the look the kid gave Alan after he'd turned away to head towards the truck. "I think he's learning already."

They drove in comfortable silence for a long while. Billy gazed out his window at the sun sinking even lower as the terrain in front of it shifted into flatter farmland, until their jog to the east put it behind them. They'd be there pretty soon. Good thing, too, since his stomach had started to kick up a fuss.

Billy's thoughts wandered back to the camp, by now probably dining on the usual fare of canned stuff and other non-perishables. He didn't feel sorry for them, exactly. That's what they signed up for, after all, and the weekly venture to the Hell Creek Bar & Grill was simply a treat that boosted the mood and efficiency of the hard working camp. Happy diggers were better diggers, for the most part. It was a pretty well-established tradition for those working close enough to Jordan, according to Alan, since he had discovered for himself years ago how much of an incentive it was—one that was usually no skin off his back because he didn't have to pay for anything more than his own meal. The cheapskate.

In any case, the kids shouldn't demand it, or necessarily expect it. They didn't go every single week of the digging season, and there had been more than a few times where Alan and Billy had gone by themselves, even before they'd gotten together. Actually, Billy mused, those trips had happened _more_ often before they'd gotten together.

Still, the past week had been hot and grueling, and was only going to be worse this coming week. Maybe Billy did feel a little sorry for them. After all, only about half of them were old enough to get legally _trashed_ in the first place, and Catfish was a stickler for IDs. "I just don't understand why you had to lie to them. We still could've done the usual thing."

Alan huffed. "I didn't lie. I _don't_ want to look after them. I don't want them around tonight."

"Oh? Are we going somewhere special, Dr. Grant?" Billy half-joked. There weren't many options apart from the usual thing, and Alan liked the usual thing.

"No. I just. . ." He slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, killing the engine. "It's been a long season. Too long, too busy. I feel like I haven't had a lot of time with you."

Billy was startled by the stop. Was _this_ what was bothering him? "We sleep in the same bed, Alan."

He sighed. "I just want _you_." Alan put his right arm across the back of the seat, taking his sunglasses off and staring at Billy with more heat than the sun had beaten down on him all day.

Hunger momentarily forgotten, Billy wished that they were back in their trailer instead of sloped awkwardly on the edge of a dirt road. "_Here_?" he asked, mildly confused.

"No—no, not _here_." Alan closed his eyes. "I mean, in general."

"You want me. . . in general." As he was preparing to suss out what exactly was making Alan so inarticulate, something occurred to him, an idea which was practically confirmed when he noticed that, beneath his coat, Alan was wearing his nicest shirt. "Is this a date?"

Alan ran his fingertips across his lower lip as he looked down the road. "If you want it to be. But that wouldn't be weird, right? We're together and we're going to dinner."

It wouldn't be weird, except for the way Alan was acting. And the fact was, despite all the times they'd eaten together, they hadn't been on anything intended as, or called, an actual date. Billy wondered about the importance of intent, but he had to admit, even if a couple were going to eat dinner, it didn't automatically make it a date. He didn't tell Alan that, though. "Look, I'll take my dates where I can get them, but if you want to take me out properly, there's some pretty decent places back in the city."

"I know. And I want to, and I will. Even if we can't, um. . ." Alan glanced in the rear view mirror and took a quick look from side to side for good measure, and Billy copied him. There was no one coming, just the two of them in the truck on the side of the road.

Anchoring himself with his left hand gripping the steering wheel, Alan leaned down to meet Billy's lips and kissed him. Alan seemed to melt against him, all his earlier crankiness dispelled. His right palm came over to press gently against Billy's cheek as he deepened the kiss, and it was like Alan was showing him what he wished they could do on every single date they would ever have.

The position was hard to hold and Alan started to pull away, so Billy wrestled a little under the seatbelt to get closer and put in another good one before they had to give it up for the time being. They had to get to dinner, and get back to the dig.

"Yeah, I know," Billy followed up after they finally broke away, letting Alan know he got his meaning. His voice was slightly croaky after the kiss, so he cleared his throat, then darted his tongue out across his lips and dared to look at Alan in the aftermath.

Alan's eyes were shut, and he was breathing a little hard. Once he seemed to recover, he dragged a hand over his face and sighed. "There's something I've been thinking about, Billy. And I wanted to give you some time to think about it, too, before the season's over." Alan glanced at him, looking nervous.

Billy froze, back on alert. Alan was _nervous_. That's what it was, since the meeting.

_'Something to think about'_? Oh God. Alan wasn't. . . _proposing_, was he? Not that Billy was opposed to the idea—the theory of it, at least. He was surer about Alan than he was about being a paleontologist, and he knew deep in his bones that he wanted to dig for the rest of his life.

Alan seemed to chew on the inside of his cheek, staring down the road again, but then continued. "I feel like. . . I feel like things are different here than they are back in Bozeman. It's better, it seems easier. And I figure it's because here, we're actually living together. Back there, you still have your apartment." 

_Oh_. It was a proposal of a different sort.

Billy relaxed against the seat. He thought about why Alan was bringing this up now, and agreed that there hadn't been many quiet moments over the past few weeks, and maybe none were what Alan had considered right for this conversation. A lot of nights, they didn't even have enough energy left over to have sex, let alone an emotional discussion about life-changing decisions.

Fair enough. If he needed this date to make his pitch, that was understandable.

Alan was waiting, apprehensive. Billy realized he hadn't said anything. If he were being honest, for every bit as certain as he was about his own feelings for Alan, he hadn't really thought that _Alan_ would ever want to take it that far. Living with Alan, in the real world, not just at the dig. What they had right now was better than he could have imagined when he fell in love with him, and there must have been an unconscious part of him that felt that wishing for more would've been pushing his already incredible luck.

He'd made his decision before he was aware he had. It was practically a given. _Of course_ he'd move in with Alan. Of course he absolutely, goddamned would. Alan had to have known that, right? That he would do anything for him, find any way it took to be near him, be with him, in every way? He knew that, right?

But just as Billy was about to tell him so, Alan looked at him and said, "You don't need to answer now, Billy. Please think about it. Take your time, I know it's a big decision."

Alan started the engine back up, and Billy smiled to himself. So Alan didn't know that it was a given. _What an idiot_. Billy would have to set that straight—well… right. He'd let him know. In due time.

For now, Alan was flustered, Billy was silently giddy, and they were both hungry. They got back on the road, and not long after, took the last turn south that would lead them down to Jordan.

  
..:•:..

  
Dinner was T-bone steaks, fries smothered in ketchup, and an Ice Pick each. They couldn't get away with being snuggled up side by side as they liked to when sitting across from Stephanie or the other graduate students. Instead, they sat opposite, an entire table between them when Billy wanted nothing better than to be brushing up against Alan, feeling his warmth and comforting pressure. He wasn't going to give up on contact entirely, though, and traced the tip of his boot along Alan's calf in between mouthfuls of fries. Alan smiled demurely each time as his eyes looked around the bar, and gave a few strokes in return.

Alan was quieter than usual, and Billy was too, for that matter. They had exchanged a few opinions about the day's progress and how much more they'd realistically get done tomorrow, but the topic was a poor substitute for what they both wanted to discuss. Billy was lost in thought, picturing how that would go—moving in with Alan. He wondered if it was too soon. Alan didn't seem to think so, or he wouldn't have asked. He seemed downright anxious for it to happen, actually. 

It was true that Billy hated paying rent on an apartment that was left uninhabited for nearly two and a half months out of the year, with his possessions sitting ducks. Last summer he'd considered subletting it to one of the more trustworthy upperclassmen they taught, but he couldn't bring himself to trust any of them _quite_ enough to hand over a key.

Alan's house sat empty, too, but at least he wasn't wasting rental payments. There was plenty of room there; it always struck Billy as more space than just one man could effectively utilize, and though he'd seen enough people in his life take up space for space's sake, Alan wasn't the type. Maybe he just got a really good mortgage, or liked the location. Billy wondered why he'd never asked.

So there was enough space to fill with his things, all of the stuff he'd accumulated during his time at Montana State. Which was a lot, given that he'd only started out with two large suitcases and his favorite guitar. He frowned at the thought of carting all of it over ten blocks to Alan's. Maybe if he took only a few things at a time, nobody would notice Dr. Grant's research assistant moving into his house. But they would eventually notice him living there, there was no way around it.

There was already rumor at the dig, Billy knew that. He _stayed in Alan's trailer_. Presumably in a different bed, but not everyone seemed to buy that. It didn't matter. He knew what they thought they knew, but those kids didn't know shit. Anyway, he doubted gossip like that spread high up enough for it to get back to them. It hadn't, yet.

But this was different. In plain sight, practically.

"People would know," Billy said, without any more context than their earlier conversation. He scraped the tines of his fork along the drying bone on his plate. "How do you think they'd take it?"

Alan paused a moment, wiping his hands on his napkin, but he'd clearly thought it through already. "Best case scenario? Raised eyebrows. Worst case scenario? Well. . . I think _someplace_ would take us. We are very good at what we do."

Billy had always seen Alan as somewhat untouchable, professionally—he'd scored tenure even before the San Diego incident had fully exposed Jurassic Park and his association with it. His following popularity had only served to make him that much more of an asset to the university, even if there was less interest in funding traditional paleontology. The department was important to the school, and old fashioned science wasn't going to simply disappear, and neither would one of the top experts in the field. Would this be enough to lose that untouchability, or would the university just want it _kept quiet_?

Whatever. They'd cross that bridge when they got to it. He and Alan could face anything together. "It'd be a shame to move again after just moving in. Though my things might still be packed."

"Convenient." Alan cocked an eyebrow. "So you _are_ moving in?"

Billy grinned. "Of course. We could carpool. It'd save on gas."

Alan took the last sip from his glass and looked into Billy's eyes. "Can't argue with that."

Within two minutes they had paid, left a tip, said goodnight to Catfish, and were out the door and back in the truck.

  
..:•:..

  
Neither of them buckled up yet—it was a short crawl down the street, a left turn and one block north before they were pulling up to the far pump at Fellman's, taking the side street approach to line up correctly for the gas tank, on Alan's side.

Alan got out, and the frame of the truck echoed as he opened the tank flap and unscrewed the gas cap. Billy peered through the dusty back window to see him leaning with his elbow on the edge of the bed as he waited. Alan noticed his stare, and Billy was pretty sure he winked, though his face was mostly in shadow underneath the brim of his hat. Billy only smiled in reply, for now; he'd have a better answer once they got back home.

Finished, Alan tapped twice on the truck door and headed in to pay. Billy watched him walk away, his eyes following the rhythm of the gait he knew so well, lingering on the way Alan's pants fit around his long legs, until he disappeared into the store.

He sat for a minute more, taking in the familiar scene. Entourage of diggers or no, it was their habit to stop at the gas station on the way out of town—for gas, and for Alan's own groceries that would soon after end up in his fridge. They were as much Billy's as well; he knew he could help himself to whatever he liked, and the things he liked were often there waiting for him.

There'd been quite a few nights like this since Billy started working at the dig, years ago. Clear nights, with the heat of the day faded but not gone, plenty of stars visible through the minimal light pollution of the tiny town—just the white fluorescents from the gas station and the pumps, reflections of residential lights twinkling in the rear view mirrors, and other sparse lights from buildings near the main intersection. They were moments seemingly out of time, a breath held by the universe in the silent pocket of the truck cab, other noises muffled in the distance. Whenever a train horn could be heard, a haunting cry in the night on its way to do its job, Billy felt it somewhere deep inside, the reminder of the great dark empty spaces of the world out here, frightening in their vastness but comforting in their presence. The vibe was sometimes rudely disrupted by a car passing through the town faster than it should have, taking the northwest curve on Highway 200 to somewhere else.

But this night was different. Tonight, he didn't want to let Alan leave his sight for long. Tonight, he felt like celebrating.

Billy grabbed the keys from the ignition, scooted over to Alan's door and opened it, hitting the locks on the way out. He jammed the keys into his pocket and crossed the lot, spying the top of Alan's hat in the back isle as he opened the door.

He made a beeline, not for Alan, but for a bag of gummy bears that caught his eye. He grabbed it. They were celebratory gummy bears.

The jingle of the bell on the door had alerted Alan, so he didn't look up when Billy approached him. He had a red shopping basket hanging down from his arm, without much in it yet, and was contemplating a box he'd just taken out of the freezer—a box of fudge pops.

"Are you gonna get some of those? For the camp? The kids would love you." It would be more than a few bucks to get enough for every person, and Alan never liked spending more than a few bucks when he didn't have to. But Billy had noticed, over the years, that if anyone could get Alan to do so, it was him.

"Hm." Alan turned the box over, reading the back panel.

"You'd be their _favorite_ person."

"Hm." He put it back in the freezer, but continued to look at it through the fogged-up door.

Billy leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "You'd be _my_ favorite person."

Alan snorted. "I already am your favorite person."

"_Well_. . ." Billy said, and Alan frowned a moment until Billy chucked the gummy bears into Alan's basket and lightly brushed his fingers over the back of his hand. "You got me there."

Alan smiled down at him, and Billy got his way. Alan was clearly heading that direction anyway, it just took a little nudge. They got other items first—sandwich meat, cheese, bagels, yet another bag of marshmallows, a few more things—and came back for the half dozen boxes of fudge pops, and a bag of ice to ride with it.

Back at the truck, Alan packed the pops into the cooler that always resided on the floor of the backseat. "You think they'll survive the ride home?"

"Probably," Billy said, opening his gummy bears. He looked down at the sheen of condensate already covering the thin cardboard boxes as Alan closed the lid. "Maybe. They'll taste good, anyway."

Not much of the camp would have gone to bed yet, so most of them could have theirs tonight, and any remainder would fit in the freezer.

Soon they were underway again, driving into the night, side by side. Billy looked over at Alan, face softly lit by the green glow of the dashboard figures, and their headlights reflected back from the road. His chest tightened, thinking about what the day had brought him, and how it had brought him closer than ever to Alan. When they got back to the city at the end of the season, they'd be living together—waking up together on busy school mornings, coming home at the end of a long day and complaining to each other about it, getting dinner, spending weekends however the hell they wanted. . .

There was tomorrow, though, which would come a lot sooner. They'd take a break in the afternoon to get out from under the sun, and he'd be cooling off in the trailer with Alan. Well, maybe not cooling off, exactly.

Billy switched on the stereo, hitting play on whichever tape had been left in the tape deck. It was halfway through side two of the Eagles' _Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975_, one of Alan's more frequent choices for their trips.

_Perfect_. He gave his seatbelt more slack and put his feet up on the dash, slouching with his head leaning back on the bench seat, and took a deep breath. In some ways, no matter where they were living, he'd always be here, in moments like these, remembering how Alan looked with his fingers tapping out the rhythm on the steering wheel, how right it felt to be sitting next to him, how it was just the two of them for miles and miles.

They drove on, headlights cutting through the darkness of their path, beaming across the dirt of Hell Creek Road.

**______________**


End file.
